Rescued
by HavanaVampire
Summary: Alernate Universe: Hitomi would do anything to get a concert ticket from her friend. But it gets ridiculous when her car has trouble so she has to walk for help. To make matters worse, the only house she comes upon is deserted. Or is it? Implied HxV


**AN: This is a longer one-shot, I do not think I will continue with it. Please read and review, I'd like to hear any comments you have. Thank you and enjoy. **

Rescued

"What!"I thought the voice on the other end of the phone was lying. How could this happen?

"I'm so sorry! I just can't!" answered the voice on other end of the phone for the second time. "Just calm down, Hitomi. Tell me what happened, again, but slower." At this point I was past angry, I was now just mortified.

"Okay, fine. I was driving on the road before the road where his friend lives, as you said, to pick up your stupid brother, when some furry thing ran out in front of me. I didn't see it coming and had no time to think. So, I stomped on the break and swerved to the side of the road. I waited to soothe my nerves but, when I went to drive again, the right side of the car started shaking really badly. I pulled over and got out to see that I had two flats on that side of the car. The two wheels that had gone off the pavement."

Standing outside my Toyota, I could hear it. Air gushing out of the small holes that ruined my plans for the day. All I had to do was pick up Yukari's little brother and she would give me a free ticket to the Linkin Park concert that night. When I had asked her to come pick me up she answered: 'no, why do you think I asked you to pick him up. I can't'.

"Well, can't you just change the tire?"

"Yukari, is that the only suggestion you can come up with? Even if I had the supplies to change a tire, which I don't, I have two flats and one spare. What's your answer to that?" I yelled with despair.

"Okay, okay. Well, you could change one tire and drive with one flat." My helpful friend advised.

"I don't have a wrench to remove the lug nuts. And if I drive with a flat the rim will be ruined. I don't have enough money to replace it, and my parents certainly won't pay for it. I already have to pay for new tires anyway."

"Well, you are left with three options then. Call a tow truck and wait for it, hitchhike, or walk until you find a house and see if they can give you a lift."

"Well, hitchhiking is out and I just don't wanna wait… I think there might have been a house not too far back. Well my cell's battery is low. I'll have to call a tow and turn it off."

"Okay. Be careful and don't take risks. You know where you are? So you can direct a tow truck?"

"No. If I find someone, maybe they can tell me where I am. I'll call you back. See ya." I hung up and turned off the phone. Since I did not know where I was I could not call a tow truck yet. Yukari had given me very complicated directions on how to get to her brother's friend's house.

The road I was on was unfamiliar to me. It was not completely deserted; I had passed a few cars before my accident. But, I did not trust strangers enough to get in a car with them. My best chance was to find a house and ask for directions and for a phone to use. The only problem was I really had not seen any houses. All I could remember was thick forest on either side of the road.

Standing around was doing me no good. I began to walk on forward. I thought I had a better chance that way than the direction I had come.

The weather was nice and the walk was pretty. That made me less inclined to kill Yukari when I saw her again.

I had lost track of time when a car drove past. It slowed down slightly, but kept on driving. Still, I saw no houses. There was only dense forest on one side of the street and an open field on the other.

Suddenly, something caught my eye. A bright orange sign hung on a tree on the forest side of the road. 'Private Property – No Trespassing', read the sign. It then became clear to me why I had not seen any houses.

I was so angry, I almost started screaming. I started running on at a full sprint. I only stopped when I felt like I would keel over from exhaustion. I looked around at the surroundings that my crazy running had brought me to.

The forest had disappeared and now to my right was a large expanse of emerald green grass with a narrow ribbon of black running up the center. I realized that the black ribbon was actually a driveway and at the end, perched on the top of a hill, was a massive house.

My exhaustion forgotten, I walked to end of the long drive and began the ascent up the hill. With no trees for shade, I felt beads of sweat form on my forehead and my breath became labored. By the time I reached the house, I was panting.

The house was even larger close up. An old white Victorian style with black shutters and a black roof. It looked deserted. My hopes plummeted. Then I looked to the garage, which sat off to the side. It was open a foot, and I thought I saw a car parked in it.

I boldly marched up to the front door of the house, failed to find a doorbell, and knocked as loud as I could without being rude or obnoxious. Nothing. No answer. I tried again. And again, and again, until the pounding on the door became both rude and obnoxious. Just as I turned away from the door, about to give up, a crazy idea hit me. I slowly approached the door again and reached for the door knob. It moved under the pressure of my hand, and the door swung open on smooth hinges.

"Hello!" I called into the empty house "I just need to borrow a phone, I'm sorta lost." No answer. I took a step into the house. And another. The front doors lead into an expansive foyer room with an expensive looking decor.

I thought I heard a shuffle of feet to my right, and turn in that direction. There was a half closed door behind which looked like it could be a bathroom. I took another hesitant step. On the wood floors, my shoes made almost no noise.

"I guess I'm leaving then," I announced to the empty room. I reached for the door behind me and closed it, leaving me inside the house. I stood still and listened for a minute before I crept to the half closed door and peaked in without disturbing it.

The first thing I saw was red. Crimson blood covered the floor of the small room, a bathroom as I had guessed. There was a man lying face down on the floor, fresh blood oozing from a wound on his head caking his black hair to his scalp. Another man with silver-blue hair half crouched, half stood over the first, facing the door, but looking down.

"That was close," the crouching man grumbled. "Better finish this before there are any more interruptions." He started to rise and extended an arm with a metallic black object in his hand toward the other man.

Without thinking, I burst through the door. The man on his feet looked up, startled as my foot made contact with his crotch. He fell backward into the wall; the gun flew out of his hand and clattered noisily to the tile floor. The man slumped to the ground against the far wall, clutching his groin in pain.

I cautiously approached the gun and kicked so it slid behind the toilet. I went after the attacker again and this time my foot made contact with the side of his neck adequately rendering the man unconscious. I then frantically ran through the house looking for suitable string. When I only found a roll of duct tape, I shrugged and used it to wrap the now unconscious man to the sink.

I then knelt beside the injured man. He still had a pulse. I found a bath towel and wrapped it around his head. I cautiously rolled him onto his back. He let out a small moan, but his eyes remained closed. I then laid down more towels to soak up some of the blood on the ground and put another towel underneath his neck to support it as well.

I poured water on the attacker man. "Where are we? I need an address." I asked when he came around.

"Why?" He growled back.

"So I can call the police, and still go to my concert."

"Well why would I help you with that?" was the slurred response.

I made a threatening move toward his crotch. The man tried to pull away just to find he had been restrained. He struggled furiously for a couple of seconds but the duct tape held fast.

"Fine, fine, I'll talk. But I'm tellin' you, you got the wrong man. That one there just broke into my house and would've killed me had I not attacked him first," the man said. "Come on, you gotta believe me."

"Well, I don't. So why don't you just give me the address so the police can handle this," I replied and took a step away from him.

"Okay, okay. The address is, um, 8590 Burkhart Road." Came the answer.

"So if I look outside and see the address is different, then what would that mean?" I questioned, unimpressed by his response.

"You don't have to look outside," the man answered quickly. "I know it's, ah, 8590 Burkhart. You just made me nervous."

"Sure," I said and turned to leave. I quickly opened the front door and looked around outside. On the far corner of the house the letters 8590 were printed in bold black print.

_It still doesn't mean anything,_ I thought to myself.

I came back into the bathroom and said, "Okay, so where's your phone? This is your house, so you know where it is, right?"

"Yes, yes. The phone is, arg… you know, these binds are starting to hurt, would you mind untying me?"

"No chance."

"I don't know why I should cooperate with you if you insist on treating me this way," the man said.

"I don't know what you mean," I answered and left the room to locate the phone by my own means. I eventually found the kitchen where a phone sat in its cradle plugged into the wall.

"Hello, what is your emergency?" asked the receptor when I dialed 9-1-1 on the phone.

"Attempted murder. I need the police; they can figure it out when they get here. And an ambulance, there's someone hurt here. But I need someone as soon as possible, please," I said as calmly as possible.

"Okay, and this is a landline?"

"Yes," I answered.

"Alright, one moment please and I'll look up your address." There was a click and then silence before the voice said: "Okay, someone should be there in about 20 minutes. Will you be alright until then?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine until then." I was surprised by how collected I sounded. But on the inside I was starting to freak out. 20 Minutes? What was I supposed to do until then?

"Okay, I'm hanging up now."

"Alright." Everything was NOT alright. I said it was attempted MURDER. Why couldn't they get here faster? I didn't voice my complaints and the phone line went dead. Well, at least I didn't have to worry about telling the receptor the wrong address.

I returned the phone to its cradle. I would just have to wait. I could call a tow truck at least. And Yukari. And my parents. That call I dreaded most.

After a minute of indecision, I decided to check the bathroom again. I had been gone awhile and it seemed too quiet.

In the bathroom, the hostage was tied up nicely, though he was still thrashing and raging.

"Come on girl," the hostage almost threatened. "I'm the victim. He's the one that attacked me!"

"We'll wait for the police," I responded, annoyed. I thought about kicking him again before I turned to leave. As I began to walk back to the phone, I heard a faint moan come from the injured man. I spun around to see him trying to sit up.

"Hey, you should hold still." At the sound of my voice he looked up to face me.

"Who are you? And what are you doing here?" he asked with mistrust in his voice.

I sat on the floor a few feet away from him and answered: "My name's Hitomi Kanzaki. My car broke down and I came to this house to use the phone, but no one answered, so I just opened the door. I found that guy," I pointed to the hostage, "standing over you with a gun, so I restrained him and called the cops."

The guy in the corner had become very quiet and had stopped thrashing. The man on the floor looked down considering my story.

He looked up and asked, "Why'd you come in the door if no one answered?"

"Because I just needed to use a phone," It was my turn to look down and feel embarrassed. "I wasn't going to steal anything. I'm sorta on a time crunch, too."

"Why'd you stop that guy? Why not just leave?"

"I don't know. It just seemed like the right thing to do at the time," I answered honestly. He looked down in thought again. After a short pause, I asked, "So, what's your name?"

"Huh? Oh, I'm Van Fanel," He answered.

"So, Van, why aren't you freaking out yet?" I inquired.

"What do you mean?" he retorted with suspicion again.

"You were just saved by a stranger from some guy who had tried to kill you. Does that happen often?" I answered tartly.

"No, it doesn't," Van said quietly laying back down and closing his eyes.

Realizing that the conversation had come to an end, I got up and left the room for the phone. When I got to the kitchen where the phone sat, I just could not make myself pick it up. I dreaded my parents' reaction. I would just tell them later, after the police had come. I also did not want to involve Yukari.

So, I left the kitchen to go back to the bathroom. When I got to the door, I could hear voices coming from the inside. Hoping to learn more about the situation I had immersed myself in, I waited outside the partly closed door to listen.

"You're just going to do it again," the hostage said in a taunting voice. "Just going to ruin another of your friend's lives. You know you are. I'm going straight to jail. Who knows what will happen to me there. I might just commit suicide. How would that make you feel?"

Van remained silent. I thought he might have lost consciousness, but the hostage continued the taunting.

"You can just untie me now. I'll leave- won't settle the score. At least not now. What do you say? You don't want my life on your conscience, too, now do you?" A moment of silence descended before he continued, "I won't even kill that annoying pest out there if you willing untie me."

My heart pounded in my throat waiting for Van's answer.

"I don't want your life on my conscience as well," Van finally murmured. "But I can't trust you. I can't trust that you'll just leave in peace. I can't move either: you did a number on my head with that gun."

"Think of what happen to Allen. Poor Allen. He was innocent," the hostage sneered.

"Stop it," Van answered firmly.

"Never did anything wrong. Condemned to death by your doing," the torment continued.

"Stop! Just stop it!"

"Yes poor Allen, betrayed by his friend. And now you'll do the same thing to me, your brother."

"Stop it, Folken!"

I burst into the room to find Van clutching his head on the floor trying to block out the other man's maniacal laughter. I calmly walked over to the latter and smacked him on the face as hard as I could. The laughter stopped and the room became silent for a moment before the sound of a distant siren could be heard.

The hostage regained his senses and chuckled eerily. "Oh what ever will you do now, little brother? The police will be here soon, and then it's certain death for me. You-"

"Shut up!" I yelled to cut him off. "I've had enough of you, you psychopathic freak! Just shut up and wait for your just desserts!"

No one said anything as the sirens grew louder. Then, as I began to leave to wait by the front door, Van whispered miserably, "But he's right: I do deserve to suffer. It was an accident. I didn't want Allen to get hurt."

"But Allen did get hurt, he died! You're just a walking disaster for everyone around you," the tormentor interjected. I made another threatening gesture toward his groin and he shut up. I waited for Van to quietly continue.

"I was driving Allen home late one night. I took a sharp corner a little wide and out of nowhere, a huge truck slams into the side of my car. The driver was drunk and driving on the wrong side of the road. The passenger side of my car was completely smashed in. I lost control of the car and it spun across the road into a tree. The truck kept going and crashed into another tree. The drunk driver only had scrapes and bruises. I had a fractured arm and a concussion. Allen had four broken ribs, a concussion, a lot of internal damage, and his right arm and leg were broken in two spots.

"It took three hours for the police to come after someone else drove past the crash had called in because everyone in the crash was unconscious. Allen bled to death right beside me. And I did nothing. If I had remained conscious to call the police, Allen wouldn't have died."

All became silent except for the sirens which sounded as if they were right outside the house now.

"And where do you play into this?" I pointed at the prisoner.

"I'm Van's older brother. I was also a close friend of Allen's" came the prompt answer.

"So because your little brother was involved in the accident that killed your friend, you think you have the right to kill him?" I asked.

"It is Van's fault Allen was killed, so yes, I do have the right to avenge Allen."

"OY! That's insane, you psychopath!" I yelled at the captive, and then I turned and knelt down next to Van. "It wasn't your fault. I'm sure Allen doesn't blame you and he doesn't want you to blame yourself either."

Van looked up at me with despair in his eyes. "You don't know that," he whispered.

"Horrible things happen in life that no one can prevent. But we keep living. We live on to see another day. We reach out and help each other. And in the end, it all works out. You'll see. It'll eventually be all right, with time. But if you give now, it will never be okay."

There was a banging on the door then. "Come in!" I called as loud as I could and stood up. I heard the doors open and yelled again, "In here!"

Two police entered to room. As they surveyed the scene in silence, their gloomy faces grew even grimmer. "It looks like Hell in here," one finally said.

"You've no idea," I answered.

The next hours flew by in a whir of confusion. I was questioned and my parents were called. When hearing my answer for entering the house, the police officers gave me very odd looks. They thought I was lying or something, but kept giving them consistent answers, so were they eventually satisfied.

From what I had overheard of Van's and Folken's interviews, I pieced together what had happened before I had opened the door.

Van had just come home from the hospital a few days ago when Folken, who had graduated college and was living by himself, came to visit. Van's parents were both at work so Van and Folken were alone in the house.

Folken started to verbally attack Van, blaming him for Allen's death a couple weeks earlier. Van tried to escape Folken by going into the bathroom, when Folken pulled out the gun. When I knocked at the door, Folken had hit Van on the head with the butt of the gun causing Van to lose consciousness before he could call out. And that was the scene when I entered the house.

After Van had received medical attention from the paramedics, he approached me where I waited for my parents on the front porch of his house.

"Thank you. For everything you've done," Van said.

""I'm sorry for everything that happened. I know it must be awful." I tried to console Van.

"Yeah, but it almost seems bearable now." We stood side for a minute in silence watching Folken angrily being loaded into to the police car, yelling accusations the whole way.

I let out a heavy sigh when I saw my dad's car turn up the driveway. "Dealing with your brother will seem easy compared to dealing with my dad." I sighed again.

"It's alright. I believe in you to be able to live through it," Van answered, almost smiling at me. I smiled back at him and waited for the approaching chaos to begin.

**AN: Hope you liked it! Thank you for reading!**


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